


Dreams

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [14]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you want to hurt yourself now," Thor asks.</p><p>"No," Loki says.  "I just want you to take care of me."</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Memories and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The mess with Odin requires some damage control.

He's about halfway home when the phone rings. He glances at the heads-up display; it’s a local exchange, not a number he recognizes.

When the caller doesn't leave a voicemail, instead ending the call only to redial immediately - twice - he starts to worry. "Hello," he says into the hands-free unit, opting not to volunteer his name.

 _It's me, Thor._ Loki's voice sounds far away, with a lot of background noise. Thor's stomach flips. _You're on speakerphone._

Thor can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. He's not even sure where to start. "What's up, baby," he tries, going for calm and casual and missing by at least twice the length of a football field. "Where are you?"

 _At the center,_ Loki tells him; it's what his brother calls day treatment. _My care coordinator wants to speak with you_.

"Of course," Thor assures him. He can't get a read on his brother's voice. "Are you okay?"

There's an uncomfortably long pause, during which he starts to feel like he will have to pull over. _I've had better days,_ Loki answers, finally. _Here she is_.

A chair screeches across the floor. Thor shivers. _Mr. Odinson?_ She sounds crisply professional, like it's all part of the job to still be stuck there at dinnertime. Then again, maybe it is.

"Just Thor, please." He is in no mood to hear his father's name. "How can I help you?"

 _Your partner had a rather difficult day,_ she explains, dropping the word partner like it’s the most natural thing in the world, _and I do not feel comfortable releasing him. Not to walk home alone,_ she goes on, before Thor has time to protest, _and not without speaking with the two of you. Together._ She pauses for a moment but Thor just waits, carefully saying nothing. He isn't sure what he's supposed to say; not yet, anyway. Anything he does say, too, he can’t take back. It’s better to wait. _Are you able to stop by the center now,_ she asks, finally.

So that's where Loki gets it. "Of course," Thor offers. It feels better to be doing something. To have a plan, even if it’s only a very short-term one right now. "I'm only a few blocks away. Loki," he adds, a little louder, "I'll be right there."

~

Between parking the car and walking in, Thor does a few rounds of those surprisingly useful breathing exercises his therapist taught him. If the day treatment people are worried about releasing his brother, Thor can only imagine storming in all big and loud and insistent will just make whatever this is exponentially worse.

When he feels as calm as he thinks he can manage just now, he gets out of the car.

The guard buzzes him in, after making him show the requisite photo ID, "First room on the left, sir."

It's right there. Thor takes another steadying breath and raps on the wood. Politely, not like a cop or a warrant server.

Loki cracks the door open. As soon as Thor's in the room, his brother flies into his arms and clings frantically. "Hi, baby," he tells his armful of Loki quietly. "Hi, I'm Thor," he says to the care coordinator. "We met during Loki's intake process," he continues, smiling as nicely as he can. "You wanted to see me," he points out as she nods.

Easing into a chair just now isn't happening, not with his brother wrapped around him like a python. Thor opts to own standing, instead, like he's doing it on purpose. He keeps smiling, one arm circling Loki's waist and the other hand cradling the back of his brother’s head.

"Loki has been quite stable recently," she says, flipping briskly through the file in front of her. "Very stable. Today, though, he really struggled. Right, Loki," she prompts, and Thor really wants to shush her. He doesn't, but he wants to.

"Right," Loki says into the angle of Thor's shoulder.

"What does that actually mean," he asks, not quite sure who he's supposed to be asking. Who he _is_ asking.

"I kind of lost it in the activity room," his brother tells him. "I broke most of the _big kid crayons_. And a lamp."

"And," the care coordinator prompts, voice much gentler now.

Loki heaves a huge, warm sigh against Thor's neck. "And when one of the caregivers sent security in to intervene, I told him to stay back or I'd hurt myself." He snuggles even closer. "I don't think I really wanted to, though."

Thor tries his best to swallow normally. "Do you want to hurt yourself now?" They're not going to let him take his brother home if he can't handle the tough stuff.

"No," Loki says. "I just want you to take care of me."

"Of course," Thor assures him. Even if they make his brother go in for an evaluation, Thor will be there for him every allowable step of the way. After what he learned yesterday, especially, he is never going to let Loki suffer - solo -through anything awful again. Not if there is any way he can help it.

"Loki's therapist spent some time with him," the care coordinator tells Thor. "It sounds like he had some upsetting news recently, and that knocked him off balance, for lack of a better way to describe it.”

It’s a pretty accurate way, actually. Thor nods, his two-day stubble catching his brother's soft hair "Yes, we had some problems with- with my father," he confirms. "And then I pressured Loki for information. In hindsight," he continues, looking down at his brother and then back at the care coordinator, "I shouldn't have. I know that now, and I won't do it again."

She nods. "Are you able to be with Loki all evening?"

“Yes,” he says again. “Of course.” He’s starting to feel like those three words make up ninety percent of his vocabulary.

“Will both of you take a seat, please,” she tells them. Thor gives Loki the gentlest of nudges. Surprisingly, his brother peels off him and sits, left hand grabbing on to his right one a little too hard. Thor sits as well, bringing Loki’s hand to his lips and giving the tense little fingers a quick kiss as he does so.

He’s expecting- he’s not sure, really. A bit of a lecture or something. Instead, she just runs through a few rules - _call this number any time tonight if there’s a problem,_ that sort of thing – and then lets them go. It’s a bit of a head scratcher, really. In the end all Thor can figure is that- that asking Loki to sit was a test or something.

~

His brother is still impossibly clingy as they make their way past the guard. “Have a nice night,” Thor tells the man as they leave. He doesn’t want to make any sort of trouble here.

“You, too, guys,” the guard calls after them.

~

“So what actually happened,” Thor asks as he gets the passenger side door for Loki. He doesn’t think the question falls under the category of _prying he promised not to do,_ but he’s watchful just the same… as prepared as he can be to stand down instantly if things start to go badly.

Loki shrugs, looking up at him and struggling a bit with the seatbelt. “Pretty much exactly what I said,” he answers quietly. He sounds very, very tired. Depressed tired. “I just couldn’t get it together today, I guess. I’m sorry you had to come collect me.”

“I’m not,” Thor says, bending down to give him a light kiss before swinging the door closed.

~

Once they get home, Thor finds himself still pretty much at a loss. He wants very much to make things better, not worse, but he’s worried and edgy and that’s not going to help either one of them. “Do you want to see if Sif is free,” he asks his brother, “or do you want me all to yourself tonight?”

Loki wraps around him again. Even now it’s far more terrified than sexual, which isn’t like his brother. Not recently, especially. _Everyone has bad days,_ he reminds himself. “Just you,” Loki breathes against his shoulder.

“Okay.” He hopes it is. “Dinner? Maybe watch a movie?” He certainly isn’t going to try _talking_ again, not until this blows over.

“Are you starving right this minute,” Loki asks. “Because if you’re not, I’d like a backrub.”

~

He can do that.

He can. Even when his brother requests the cuffs, wrists and ankles, and a collar. “Not because I’m horny,” Loki assures him. “I just- I need to feel grounded.”

~

“Are you sure your wrist is up to this,” Thor probes, pulling carefully on that cuff. Loki looks – given the current situation – almost disturbingly good spread-eagled face down on the bed, collar high on his neck and hair spread messily across the blanket. Thor swallows the thought down; that’s not what he’s here for. “I don’t think I can hurt you. Not tonight,” he tacks on, trying gamely to make the original statement sound less like a Grand Pronouncement.

Loki laughs quietly, for the first time this evening, and relaxes into the bedding. “As hard as this may be to believe, for once I actually don’t want you to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All this is too much for Thor. It gets him when he least expects it, too.
> 
> **WARNING** \- dream sequence with graphic suicide-related imagery

_There are footprints trailing in from the road, making more or less straight for a break in the wrought iron fencing stretching the full width of the property. The snow is crisp and firm and clean-smelling. Thor squats by the roadside; the prints are clearly his brother's, the strap-and-buckle covered motorcycle-style boots Loki favors._

_If he shuts his eyes Thor can picture them perfectly, from the heavy lugged soles up the buckled shafts to the slim muscular lines of his brother's calves. He shakes his head to remind himself he cannot indulge in this particular vision._

_Not now._

_He's here to find Loki and there just isn't time._

_As he squeezes through the damaged fence his coat catches on one of the bent, twisted spear points. He's able to wrench himself free but not without some little damage; he hears the fabric tear, the sound loud in the quiet, snow-covered yard, and as he finally clears the fence his pants rip as well. The cold air just above his knee is raw. Shocking._

_The house itself looms above him, a moldering once-grand Victorian mansion - larger than the place they used to rent – with its paint long since peeled away. One of the turreted spires still stands, relatively speaking, windows shattered and top canted back against the steep roof; the other has collapsed completely, its slates and rotted shingles poking up out of the snow like so many broken teeth._

_~_

_The porch floor slopes dangerously. The lower half of each impossibly tall first floor window – every window within sight, at least – is boarded over with greying, warped, splitting plywood._

_The front door must once have been similarly secured, but its plywood cover has been largely torn away (and not recently, either, going by the weathered splintered edges). Everything is half-hidden beneath a thin layer of snow._

_About four steps from the half collapsed porch the snow cover is oddly flattened. Thor squats again; from the imprints his brother sat down here... sat in the snow and removed both boots._

_And sure enough: From here on in, the footprints are actually footprints. As in, prints of feet. Bare feet, toes splayed wide against the snow._

_It makes no sense, none at all, and for the first time Thor feels a hot stab of real fear._

_~_

_He hurries up the sagging steps, but can’t safely continue in that manner; instead he has to slow back down to a near standstill in order to make his way across the decomposing porch without breaking a leg. Or worse. "Loki," he calls loudly from the doorway. He pokes his head in, between the jagged-edged remains of the broken plywood and the heavy door half off its hinges. "Loki!"_

_Nothing._

_Well, almost nothing - just the flapping whir of a pigeon crossing the space somewhere far above him._

_Thor squats at the threshold and carefully tests the floor ahead, blinking rapidly. His eyes are annoyingly slow to adjust to the gloom after the white expanse of snow outside._

_Once he can see reasonably well again he realizes most of the floorboards are gone, fallen between their joists into the even dimmer basement below. The joists themselves look mostly sound, though, except for an area across the room where someone must once have kindled a small fire._

_"Loki," he yells again, voice shaking. He's never going to find his brother in this mess, not without falling to his own death. Fuck._

_He looks back at the bright trapezoid of light that is the front doorway, wincing and squinting at the glare. His own breath rises in frosty puffs._

_The choice turns out to be simple. He can't leave, not knowing his brother came in here. Barefoot. Since this morning's snowfall._

_He can't._

_~_

_Thor makes his wobbly way, balance beam style, across the huge entry hall to the foot of the grand – well, formerly grand; the ornate railing has long since collapsed to lie scattered in pieces, some on the steps but most on the floor below – sweeping staircase. The ceiling above this area is comparatively intact; its plaster is ringed with the concentric brownish stains of long-accumulated water damage, but it’s structurally sound. Or, at least, it’s still holding its own._

_The bottom two stair treads are missing. In the center of the dust-coated third, more than a yard away from the relative safety of either riser, is another footprint. A bare footprint, mostly toes._

_He doesn't call out this time. His throat is too tight. All he can even hear anyway is the roar of blood in his own ears._

_Fuck._

_He picks his slow, careful way up the stairs, as close to the curved wall with its shredded, faded wallpaper as he can manage. A few treads creak ominously – near the top one partially gives way beneath his weight, making him shriek – but he ultimately makes it to the floor above having sustained nothing worse than a horrible fright and a twisted, throbbing ankle._

_~_

_He walks slowly down the hall, looking around. The second floor is an odd mix of bright and dark. Where he can see them the windows are uncovered, curtains long since rotted to tatters, but several doors are closed. He walks cautiously to one and opens it, only to jerk back as he realizes the room’s floor has collapsed completely._

_"Loki," he tries to say, but his voice is just a hoarse whisper._

_~_

_He smells it before he’s halfway to what ends up being the bathroom doorway (the sixth door, on the left-hand side): the sharp metallic tang of blood. Thor stumbles forward, caution gone, only to freeze in shock against the doorjamb._

_Loki is sprawled - still clothed, oddly - in the rusty claw-footed bathtub, face blanched the unnatural wax-museum grey-white parchment color of death. There is congealing blood everywhere; a smear of it across his brother’s pale forehead, globs of it coating clothing, drips and spatters across the floor. One forearm rests against the tub’s steep side, skin and rolled sleeve covered in drying blood from a yawning gash extending nearly wrist to elbow._

_The boots stand neatly nearby, between the tub and the sink._

_On the tile above the tub, in messy block writing still unmistakably Loki’s, looms a single bloody word: GOODBYE._

_~_

_For several horrible moments Thor is utterly and completely paralyzed. He cannot think or breathe or move. When he finally can, it’s first to scream NOOOO and then to recoil, unthinking, stumbling over himself as he backs clumsily out into the hall._

_He catches a heel on something and trips outright, falling backwards with all his weight against the door on the opposite side of the hall. Its hinges give way with a loud protesting squeak, dumping him unceremoniously ass-first on the floor._

_Except there is no floor, and then he’s just free-falling._

_He jerks, panicking, and manages to twist himself partly upright,-_

-only to smack his shin painfully against one of the metal footboard rails.

He’s in bed.

In the apartment.

With Loki, who is blinking sleepily up at him.

It’s not real. It didn’t happen. It’s not fucking real.

And then the scent memory of all that blood hits him full-on and he’s up, sprinting for the bathroom with both hands clamped tightly across his mouth.

Thor makes it to the toilet, barely, before his stomach turns itself inside out. And again. And again. When the room stops spinning he blows his nose on a few sheets of toilet paper, spits into the bowl, and flushes. He’s resting his forehead against the cool porcelain, tears streaming down his face, when he hears a little noise.

“You okay?” It’s Loki, standing in the shadowy darkness of the doorway, more or less wrapped in their comforter. “Thor? What happened?” His brother’s voice is pinched and anxious-sounding.

His brother, who is pinkish in the gloom, messy-haired and beautiful and very much alive.

“Thor?” Loki kneels next to him and reaches out to touch his face. “You’re scaring me. Do I need to get Sif? Or call 9-1-1?”

“No,” Thor rasps. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He pulls himself shakily up to standing and reaches for the mouthwash. Loki stands quietly watching him, worried wrinkled-browed reflection captured in the mirror, as Thor sloshes and spits and then rinses his face with cold water. He takes a deep breath. And another. “I had the most horrific nightmare,” he finally grits out. He- he can’t even.

“Shh,” Loki tells him. “Come back to bed. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

Thor does get back into bed, wrapping himself completely around Loki’s warm, soft, _living_ body. Even so, it’s hours before he dares to let himself drift off to sleep again.

~

_What were you most afraid of_ , his therapist asks him the following morning. Later that morning, really. Thor has his office door closed and is hoping this looks like a normal conference call to anyone who might peer in the window; he just couldn’t wait for lunch. Not this time.

“That he was gone,” Thor says, voice rough. “That he had left forever, and it was all because of me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is like a see-saw.

He can’t help it. It’s not like he yawns on purpose. In fact, he doesn’t even really realize he’s doing it until his brother stops mid-sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, _brother_ ; was I _boring_ you?” From the irritated look on his face Loki is half kidding, but only half.

“Of course not,” Thor assures him, scrubbing his face with both hands and crunching up to sit cross-legged on the grass. “I was paying rapt attention. Really, I was,” he insists as Loki snorts.

“Sure you were. Name two things I was talking about.”

Thor thinks and thinks, so long that his stupid silence has to be completely obvious. “Um. Cats. And shoulders. Something about shoulders. Owww, stop it,” he howls, jumping as his brother pinches hard into the skin of his inner arm and then _twists_. “That fucking hurts. And it leaves a mark.”

“Because so many people see you naked,” Loki reminds, all sarcasm – and that isn’t even the point, since people _do_ see Thor in golf shirts this time of year – but he does let the arm go. “Hey, you were the one falling asleep. This is important to me,” Loki stresses, “and besides… _it’s your fault I was even talking to begin with. You asked me about my day._ ” He shrugs, oversized t-shirt sliding off one very pretty shoulder. “Remember?”

Well, yes, actually; that _is_ true. Thor _does_ remember asking Loki about- about what he did in day treatment. He makes himself focus. “I do care, baby,” he says gently. “Very much. And I really am interested. I’m just so fucking exhausted.”

“Do you want me to tell you again, then,” Loki asks. “And before you answer,” he adds, hand up in _stop_ , “I should warn you that, if you say no, I’m going to ask difficult questions instead.” He smiles crookedly. “The choice is yours.”

It wasn’t really going to be a contest anyway; despite appearances to the contrary, Thor very much does want to hear the answer to his original question. Still, the pot has just been sweetened considerably. “Please,” he offers. “Let’s try it again from the top. What were you up to in day treatment?”

Loki smiles happily, suddenly a little shy-looking. It’s not an expression Thor sees often. It’s cute, cute enough that he can’t resist reaching forward to cup his brother’s cheek.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Loki teases, nuzzling Thor’s palm. And then he rakes his own hair back into a messy ponytail, forearms along his sharp face, and it happens: Thor has a horrible flashback to the dream. _The grotesque cuts. Death. The blood, all the blood. GOODBYE._

“Ahh,” he gasps, starting violently. Loki flinches back, eyes huge.

“What? What did I do?”

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ “Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s fine. Go on, tell me about day treatment.” Thor makes himself relax, forces a smile. “Start with cats.”

“Cats,” Loki says. He’s obviously frustrated, not to mention rattled, and Thor expects there will be a battle. Instead his brother just sighs. “Okay, cats. One of the main reasons we’re all at the center to start with is to learn _life skills_ ,” he says, with a little eye-roll. “I’m a bit of a special case, though, in that I have all the basics down – I wash and dress and feed myself, even at the worst of times,” he adds, laughing, and Thor does have to admit it’s an accurate assessment. If you leave out the periods of active incarceration, Loki was always the cleanest crazy person Thor had ever seen. Well, except when his brother was streetwalking.

“What I’ve never done, though,” Loki goes on, almost like he’s reading Thor’s mind, “is work. Legally, at least. Or even prepare myself to work, for that matter.” He shrugs. “No fucking clue, that’s what it comes down to. No. Fucking. Clue.” He looks off to the side, face softly shy again. “I learn fast, faster than most anyone, but who’s going to give a mental patient with priors a chance to prove himself?”

It’s clearly a rhetorical question, for which Thor is almost painfully thankful. He’s been wondering the exact same thing, since Loki first started talking about what to do next, and he honestly hasn’t managed to get much of anywhere. So he says nothing, just as is expected of him, and simply waits politely for his brother to continue.

“One of the women who works there – one of the dieticians,” Loki explains, and it dawns on Thor(‘s frantically scrambling mind) that he had no idea day treatment programs _had_ dieticians, “ – runs an animal shelter on the side. Just for cats.”

Thor nods encouragingly. “Got it this time. Work. Dietician. Shelter for cats.” He smiles. “Paying attention.”

Loki smiles back. “Thank you. So, every now and then she brings in a cat for us to see. To pet, play with, that kind of thing. They’re nice. And warm. They like me,” he says, sounding a touch awed. Thor and Loki never had pets as children. “She asked me if I want to try helping out a couple of hours a week at the shelter.” His whole face lights up. “They want me to handle the kittens. How fun a job would that be?”

It’s wonderful, everything else notwithstanding, to see his brother this excited. “I’m glad for you,” Thor exclaims, setting aside his concerns – how will you get there, how will you know what to do, will everything be okay – for the time being. There will be plenty of time to be a responsible adult later. “Kittens. They’re the perfect animals for you.” They are, too. Sif’s parents raised a pair of kittens ages ago, back when he and Sif were a thing, and he clearly remembers how the willful little demon spawn raked hands and legs with claws like so many tiny curved needles. Pint-sized pets of pain.

A shadow passes over Loki’s expression. “I hope I do okay with them. It’s kind of frightening, actually. The whole idea of it. Me. Taking care of something living.”

Thor thinks back to how happy his brother had looked not half a minute ago. “I think you’ll be great. When do you start?”

“Next week, I guess, if I want to. She says it’s up to me.” He makes a face. “No pressure and all that supportive, life-affirming shit.”

“Well,” Thor tells Loki as decisively as he can, “I think you should do it.”

“Me too,” his brother concurs, smiling happily again. “Me too.”

~

“So, why aren’t you sleeping,” Loki asks lightly, conversationally as they walk back from the park. “Is it that dream?”

“Hey,” Thor accuses. “You said-.”

“Oh, no, brother, that’s where you’re wrong,” Loki cuts in, smug-sounding. “I most certainly did not.” He’s clearly fighting not to laugh. “I said I _would_ ask difficult questions if you declined to let me talk.” He gives Thor’s hand a squeeze. “I never once said I wouldn’t if you didn’t.”

“Dickhead,” Thor says, fondly, squeezing back. He sighs, on purpose, making sure the rush of air is extra loud. “Fine, you win. Yes. It’s the dream.”

“Let’s go for coffee,” his brother suggests, tugging him towards the crosswalk. “And ice cream.”

It’s good thinking on Loki’s part. They walk through the very end of a sunny, warm afternoon, light just tailing off into the longer shadows of early evening. Talking about his nightmare – only a little; he’s not going off any deep ends here, not after what happened when he pushed Loki into talking about Odin – at a cheerful sidewalk table over coffee and ice cream does sound like the least horrible of his options. Not un-horrible, mind you... he’s shaking slightly even thinking about it… just not nearly as bad as it could be. “Okay,” he finally agrees, still with more than a little reluctance. “But I’m only going to talk about it while I can.” He frowns over at his brother. “When I get too uncomfortable, we’re stopping. Agreed?”

Loki smiles at him, with extra teeth. “Of course. It’s not like I’m _you,_ after all.”

~

They settle in at one of only two empty tables, steaming coffee and ice cream spread out like a banquet before them. Thor went for butter pecan; his brother selected some sort of sundae so full of chocolate it borders on disgusting. Well, not to Loki, clearly; he’s started in on it as though the spoon is a shovel.

“So,” his brother says around a sticky spoonful of fudge. “You dreamed about me, didn’t you? Something bad,” he adds, wrapping his tongue around the spoon.

The motion is distracting, like it always is, except this time Thor’s actually grateful for a little distraction. He leans in to kiss his brother’s cold, chocolaty lips. To ground himself firmly in the present, where Loki is whole and happy and stuffing himself with more sweetness than anyone should eat at a single sitting, ever. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I lost you, and when I found you…” He sets his spoon down and takes a couple of deep breaths. “When I found you, it was too late. You were- you were dead. Really, really dead,” he adds, laughing a little even though it’s nothing like _funny_. “And it was my fault.”

“It was just a dream,” Loki reminds him gently. “It didn’t happen. I’m here. I’m fine.” His brother leans close. “I’m sticky.”

It’s too sweet. Thor feels the tears welling up. “I can’t lose you. I just can’t.” Great. He’s going to bawl, right here in front off all these dessert-eating people. People who probably think the two of them are breaking up or something, over ice cream. How utterly _teen angst._ It’s fucking embarrassing.

“I’m here,” Loki reminds him again, face so close Thor can’t really focus. “What can I do? How can I help?”

His brother sounds so concerned. So- so _normal_. Thor lets his head fall forward, forehead coming to rest against the bony point of Loki’s shoulder. “Please don’t die,” he forces out between ragged sobs. “Please don’t. Please.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor tries the thing.

"Are you up for something new?" Loki's fingers trail oh-so-lightly down the upper side of Thor's forearm - his brother has only just started to really use his right hand again; PT must finally be paying off - and the faint tickling sensation makes him shiver.

"Sex something?" He looks out at the trees across the street, their leaves rustling in the early afternoon breeze. It's hours yet until they're meeting Sif and Steve for dinner. "That kind of something?" Thor can feel his heart beating a little faster; he's not sure if it’s out of eager anticipation… or fear.

"It could be, if you want," Loki says, "but it doesn't have to be. I will leave that choice up to you."

"What sort of something are we talking, then?" Last night was another night of fitful, broken sleep - even after they'd finally talked a little - and Thor knows he isn't quite himself. He's not up for surprises and guessing games, really.

"Have you ever let someone blindfold you," Loki asks. It's another question, true, but it’s probably part of the answer, too.

"Once," Thor admits. "Just for a college class, though." He laughs nervously. "Sorry to disappoint you; it was basically all about learning empathy for people with certain limitations. Different abilities. It wasn't the least bit kinky."

Loki takes his hand, lacing their fingers together gently. "What did you think? Did you like it?" He sounds genuinely interested, so Thor does the right thing and makes the not inconsiderable effort of recalling.

"It was kind of scary at first,” he tells his brother. “I was so dependent on my classmate; my partner for the exercise." They weren't even friends; he barely knew her. "Okay, that's an understatement. I was pretty fucking terrified." He strokes Loki's wrist with his thumb, trying not to tense as he feels the scar from all those years ago. "But once I figured out she _had me_ \- that she was taking the whole thing seriously and wasn't going to let me get hurt - it was pretty neat. _Freeing._ " He takes a deep breath. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Mmm," his brother hums. "It is, yes. Will you let me blindfold you?"

He snorts, instantly picturing Loki letting him walk face-first into a streetlamp. That's not fair, though - his brother doesn't sound teasing, right now, or mean. "Sorry," he says. "I'm just nervous. Blindfold me and then what?" He sneaks a look at Loki's face.

"Restrain your hands, not uncomfortably, and touch you," Loki offers, smiling. It's a sweet, eager smile, not a nasty one. "Exactly where and how, I'll let your reactions guide." He leans over and kisses Thor's nose, then pulls back to study Thor's face carefully. "I promise not to do anything that hurts you, unless you specifically ask me to. And," - another quick peck on the nose - "we can stop whenever you need to. We can take a break, I mean, or stop completely."

Thor feels another little thrill of fear... and a brief stab of arousal. "Why? Why do you want to try it," he clarifies. He's not sure how the _why_ of it even matters, but it very much does somehow.

Loki kisses him again, on the lips this time, with just the briefest brush of tongue. "I think it might help you right now," he tells Thor. "And I- I plain old want to do it." He laughs, just a little. "So," he asks, looking back and forth between Thor's eyes, his own blurry green at such close range, "win-win?"

Why not? Thor swallows. It is surprisingly difficult; his mouth is shockingly dry. "Um. Sure."

"Thank you," Loki breathes. He stands awkwardly, still holding hands, and motions for Thor to do the same.

They walk inside. Thor pulls free of Loki's hand and closes the glass doors, just in case. They _are_ having dinner with Steve later, after all.

~

The idea of letting Loki drive is- it's weird. Thor's not sure how _not_ to be in charge, even here in the cool quiet of their bedroom. He's not sure what to do; in the end he just stands there by the door, feeling stupid. Stupid and nervous and disturbingly turned-on.

"Take your clothes off and lie face-up on the bed," Loki tells him. It's not an order, exactly, but Thor guesses he's nevertheless expected to obey. He strips quickly and efficiently, back still facing his brother, and drops his clothes in a neat heap by the doors. That part out of the way he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shaking both hands to keep from fisting them, and turns.

Loki smiles at him, still pleasant. Thor isn't sure what he expected this sort of thing would be like - he'd be lying if he said he's never thought about it, but apparently he's always glossed over the important details - but it wasn’t _this_ , somehow.

His brother sweeps the covers off the bed, letting them pool against the footboard. Loki has taken off his own shirt but is still dressed in his favorite soft knit pants. They're more than a little tented; Thor feels better about his own obvious erection. When he still just stands there, uncertain, Loki gestures.

_Oh. Right. Naked. On the bed. Face up._

Thor sits on the edge of the bed, then swings his legs up and scoots towards the middle. He flops backwards, feeling himself flush as his cock slaps loudly against his stomach. "Now what," he asks, voice rough. On top of being scared shitless, he has absolutely no idea where to put his hands.

"Now you just lie there and let me take care of you," Loki tells him, squatting to pull the box of toys out from under the bed.

_Oh holy fucking god._ This is actually happening.

It’s not a dream. Not a fantasy.

Not this time.

"Close your eyes," his brother instructs from floor level, things clunking and clanking lightly as Loki roots around, "and find a comfortable spot for your arms above your head." Thor does exactly as he’s told. His heart is fucking pounding.

"I'm going to blindfold you," Loki says quietly, “and then cuff you and tie your hands to the headboard. Not so that anything hurts," he assures Thor, “just to keep your hands reasonably still. And since this is all new to you,” he continues, “we'll use stoplight colors, okay? Green for _go_ , yellow for _slow down_ , red for _stop_." He pauses. Thor isn't sure what to say. "Just like a car, got it?" Loki sounds a little nervous now too.

"Have _you_ done this before," Thor asks his brother, still a little raspy, as the blindfold slips into place.

Loki works the strap under his head, carefully mindful of his hair. "Yes, actually," his brother says, sounding more confident again. "A lot. But it's been a while." Loki fastens the buckles with a light click. "Do you understand about the colors?"

"Yes," Thor says. He tries to smile. "Green," he tacks on for good measure.

"I love you," Loki tells him softly as he fits the leather cuffs.

~

When everything is in place, his brother has him test by pulling. It's a weird, weird feeling, being naked and helpless here. _I wonder if this is how Loki feels when I do things like this to him,_ he thinks. If it is? Well, that’s a bit of a weird feeling, too, actually. He’ll have to ask about it, later.

~

At first he's jumpy as fuck, embarrassingly so. Loki has oiled both hands - sweet almond; Thor recognizes the smell - and is being very gentle, but it's impossible to relax.

_Almost_ impossible. He concentrates on his breathing, and on the soft, slow sweep of Loki's hands up and down over the muscles of his arms and upper chest; before he knows it, he's _fine_. It's actually very soothing, so much so that he has to really concentrate to answer when Loki asks how he's doing. "Fine," he announces, because he is, and then adds "green" when he remembers that he's supposed to.

~

His brother continues in kind, slowly exploring nearly every inch of Thor's body from wrists to toes and back again, over and over. Only _nearly_ every inch, though; Loki skirts around both nipples and groin, each time, until Thor can't help but groan and try to swivel against- against a hand. A wrist. Anything.

"Alrighty then," Loki says, and Thor can hear that he's smiling. "Remember,” he continues, “I promised I would let you make the call on whether or not this would end up being _sex something._ Tell me what you want."

"Green" Thor blurts out without hesitation. In the quiet it seems like he's shouting. He doesn't care. Can't care. "More." He tugs against the cuffs ineffectually. "Anything."

"Oh, I don't think you're in the right headspace to make _that_ call just now," Loki chastises gently. "But, gladly. I can give you plenty you're used to, and maybe just a little more if you still want it."

_He does he does he does._ Right now Thor wants – utterly, desperately wants – to come and he really will do fucking anything it takes to make that happen.

~

Loki lavishes attention on one nipple and then other, tongue and lips and fingers and just the occasional hint of teeth. It feels fucking fantastic - it does - but Thor can't keep from bucking and writhing. His brother laughs again, quietly. "You want my mouth somewhere else, baby?"

_Oh fuck does he ever._ He tries to say so but only manages to moan instead, spreading his legs in frantic hope that gets his point across.

It must. The feel of Loki's hot, wet mouth on his cock is incredibly intense, somehow not quite like anything Thor has ever experienced before. He wriggles and whines, trying hard - honest! - not to thrust up against his brother's throat but not even half succeeding.

~

When Loki – all too soon - pulls off with a loud, sloppy slurp, Thor can't help himself: "No," he roars. "Green! Green!" If they stop now he will seriously fucking explode. He will take the whole goddamned building down.

His brother just laughs. “It’s okay, baby,” he says, hoarse and throaty. “I’ve got you. I just wanted to ask you a question, and I couldn’t do that with my mouth full, now, could I?”

_Now? Really?_ “Fuck, Loki,” Thor growls, writhing in something far too close to agony.

“It’s related. I promise.” His brother is still laughing. “Do you want to try just a little more?”

Thor can barely think. “Please,” he breathes. He might even mean it; he’s not sure.

“Bend this knee a little,” Loki tells him, hand warm on Thor’s twitching thigh. “Up. Just like that, good.”

He doesn’t whimper when he hears the snap of the lube cap. He just doesn’t.

And then his brother’s mouth is back around him, slippery and flawless, and nothing else matters.

~

The lube is cold when Loki first touches him, fingers sliding gently down from just beneath his balls. He jumps a little, from the shock of it, and then moans unhappily when his brother immediately stops in response. “Green,” Thor barely grits out. Loki’s hand moves again. Thank god. He shifts his knee higher, doing what he can to encourage.

Loki breaches him on a particularly hard suck, finger still cool and slippery. It feels good and bad and strange and he barely has time to even process it before he’s screaming, ejaculating into his brother’s mouth so hard he thinks he might be dying.

~

“What about you,” Thor whispers as Loki gently frees him, cuffs first and then blindfold. He’s a gentleman, after all. He has responsibilities.

“Keep your eyes closed for a minute,” Loki instructs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he continues, bright and cheerful-sounding. “You just relax.” 

Thor wonders if he shouldn’t be feeling guilty – he knows how much Loki likes to get off, after all – but he- he can’t. He’s too tired.

His brain is barely functional.

It’s the strangest feeling.

“Am I okay,” he asks stupidly, blinking up at Loki as his brother towels him off and pulls up the covers to tuck him in.

Loki smiles. He sits lightly on the bed, shoulder height, and rests a cool hand on Thor’s forehead. “You’re fine, baby,” he says, bending to kiss Thor’s nose gently. “You’re perfect.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward conversations are awkward, but Steve is a good egg.

“So, what did you guys do this afternoon,” Sif asks over appetizers: bruschetta, and something which – despite how it has clearly been fancied up to suit this trendy, hip dining spot – is still very close to its _spinach and artichoke dip_ roots.

They’ve been here before. Loki loves this dip, practically sinfully so… to the point Thor _almost_ dares to hope his brother may be too busy, or too oblivious, to answer. 

No such luck. Loki sets his fork down. And Thor himself is still feeling a little sluggish and spacy; he isn’t able to react in time to head things off.

“We worked through a little exercise in power and trust,” Loki says pleasantly, blotting his lips neatly on the linen napkin. “My brother here did really well,” he adds brightly. “Especially for his first time.”

 _Awesome_. Just fucking awesome.

Thor is so busy nearly choking on his ill-advised large mouthful of bruschetta that he very nearly misses the point when Steve’s bright red face gives it away; exactly what Loki means has just sunk in. “I’m so sorry,” Thor hurries to offer, completely heartfelt, the very instant he can talk again. “My brother is not always as private with certain things as- as the rest of us might wish he would be.”

Loki smirks. “Oh no, don’t be pinning this one on me. I was very, very quiet,” he admonishes. “Well, this time.”

Sif laughs. Steve is still as red as her strappy shirt. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “You’re fine. I don’t mind. I- I’m just not used to it.” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like life in the military is anything close to private. It’s just- well, it’s different than you,” Steve finishes, meaning Loki.

“A lot of things are different than I am,” Loki concurs, rather flatly, and Thor can’t get a clear read on whether his brother is offended or just sharing. “And I have to figure whoring is a little different than life in the military.”

Some of both, then, maybe. Thor cringes. It’s a damned inconvenient time to be so far off his game.

Steve, though, – to his credit, because Loki is nothing if not good at getting under skins – pretty much takes it all in stride. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I joined up to make things better for people. To help build a better tomorrow.” He looks at his plate, pushing a few stray chunks of tomato around with his fork. “It didn’t quite work out the way I expected, somehow. That part’s probably not so very different,” he offers, looking back across the table at them.

“Fair enough.” Loki nods. _Crisis averted._ Thor feels safe taking a mouthful of dip, reasonably sized this time. “It’s not like I liked it,” his brother tells Steve, and Thor nearly chokes again anyway.

Steve’s expression is all warmth now. It’s about then Thor realizes he should have had a little more faith in the guy. Or, barring that, in Sif’s choices. “I bet not,” Steve concurs. “But that’s how life works, isn’t it? We all do what we have to do, in order to to get by?”

“Pretty much,” Loki says drily. “Hey, though, enough about me. What did you and Siffy do today?” He doesn’t usually surrender the spotlight voluntarily. Thor wants to hug him, despite- well, there really isn’t much _despite,_ it seems. Steve and Sif are both fine. Loki is fine. No harm, no foul.

“Besides listening to you and Thor _work on your trust issues,_ you mean?” Sif’s grinning. Thor sometimes thinks she’s just a hair too much like Loki, deep down… from the feel of it, his own face is rapidly approaching the same fiery shade Steve’s had reached a few minutes ago.

Then again, maybe that’s why the three of them have been friends for so long. The four of them, now from the looks of it.

“Not much, actually,” Sif says, answering for real this time. “We’ve both been super busy with work; today, we just kind of took it easy.”

Steve takes her hand, smiling across the table. “That’s a fancy way of saying we did laundry. Aren’t you jealous?”

They all laugh, easily. Thor feels a whole lot better about things. All sorts of things. “Not at all,” he tells Steve, taking another scoop of dip. Better, and braver. “I think our afternoon was probably more fun.”

“God, I hope so,” Steve volunteers, and they all laugh again.

Thor reaches for more dip; Loki swats his hand playfully. “Hey, that’s mine. Eat your own stuff.” From the look on his brother’s face, if they were home, they would both be covered in green mess just now. And Loki would probably be lick-. Thor clears his throat. “Sorry, down the wrong pipe,” he offers even though no one else seems to have noticed.

At the most ridiculous times, out of nowhere, he still finds himself lying. It’s so fucking annoying.

“Loki,” Sif chimes in, and Thor’s more than a little relieved to have a chance to think about something else. Anything else, besides his hot, hot brother. “Thor tells me you’re thinking about volunteering.”

Loki holds up a slender finger, making a big show of chewing and swallowing. So much for thinking about something else. Loki licks his lips slowly; right about then Thor decides he’s just not going to be able to safely watch his brother at all this evening. 

At least he’s flashing back to something more pleasant now? Still.

“Sorry,” Loki says, wiping his mouth again. “Mouth very full.” Thor sneaks a quick peek at his brother; Loki is smiling happily, open and genuine. “But, yes. One of the employees at the center – you know about my situation, right,” he delicately asks Steve, who nods, “ – runs an animal shelter. For homeless cats. It’s a no-kill place, so adoptability is very important.”

Loki’s talking with his hands now, all lit up just he was like the first time he explained this opportunity to Thor. “She wants me to come help out with the little kittens. _Socializing,_ she calls it.” He laughs, and to Thor his tone sounds abruptly darker. Sure enough: “I really could have used someone to do that with me, when _I_ was little.”

Thor cringes, but no one else reacts and Loki just keeps on with his story. “Anyway, the job seems pretty uncomplicated. Two or three hours a week, I go to this place and pick up kittens. Pick them up, put them down, pick them up again.” He shrugs. “And get lots of scratches, I guess.”

“For sure,” Sif and Thor both say, in stereo and with real feeling. It’s far, far safer to look at her right now than it is to look at his brother. “I’m sure Thor has told you about my kittens,” Sif says to Loki, who nods.

“They were demons,” Thor explains. “ _Demons._ In small, furry, deceptively cute packages.”

Sif laughs. “They kind of were, I guess. But they grew up to be nice cats. I hope it works out for you, Loki,” she continues. “I think you’ll do a lot better with them than Thor here did.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Loki counters cheerfully, and Thor senses something coming _just_ before it happens. “He’s pretty good with packages.”

“Loki,” Thor huffs. Sif only snorts, though. Even Steve is smiling.

Steve, who comes unexpectedly to Thor’s rescue. “I think it’s a good idea too,” he says, all wholesome sincerity. “Taking care of animals can be a lot more rewarding than dealing with people, ultimately. Depending, I suppose, on the people.”

Somehow, that gets Loki – who nods enthusiastically; so much so that Thor can’t miss it, even out of the corner of his eye – back on track. “I’ve pretty much decided I’m going to say yes,” he tells the three of them. “It’s about a mile from your office, Thor – if she gives me a ride over, can you pick me up on your way home?”

“Of course.” It’s not an inconvenience anyway, but even if it was… he would pick his brother up on Mars, just to see him this excited about something _good_ for a change.

~

“We should talk about this afternoon,” Loki says out of nowhere when they’re home, resting - full and comfortable and more than a little lazy – side by side on the couch.

Thor groans. “Do we have to,” he complains, pretty certain he already knows the answer.

His brother reaches for his hand. “We should. I need to make sure you are okay,” Loki says, face earnest, “and I want to know what you did and didn’t like so I can do a better job next time. Unless of course,” he adds, tone surprisingly apologetic, “you didn’t like any of it and there isn’t going to _be_ a _next time_.”

Well, _that’s_ certainly not the problem. “It was- really intense, I guess,” Thor tells his brother, feeling silly. “And I feel weird, still. Weird about it, and just weird.”

Loki gives Thor’s hand a squeeze. “If I tell you that’s normal, will you believe me?”

He’s not sure, and he doesn’t want to lie; instead, Thor steers the conversation in a slightly different direction. “You said you’d done it before. Often. Was that while you were- um- working?” At least this way he won’t have to wonder exactly why he’s uncomfortable.

“Well, no,” Loki says. “Are you sure you want to hear about this?”

Thor nods. He isn’t actually positive he _is_ sure, but he did start it. And it’s important. He should know.

“Between the nuthouse and getting arrested,” Loki starts in, watching Thor’s face carefully, “a friend of mine and I used to do it. It really wasn’t sex, even,” he points out ( _so what if it had been_ , Thor thinks… he’d had Jane and, before, that random co-eds; who the fuck is he to be pointing any fingers?). “We were both in kind of a rough place. I didn’t know how to put words to it then,” he goes on, face very serious, “but doing things like that- it was a way for me to process the emotional pain.”

“What happened to your friend,” Thor asks. He’s pretty sure what’s coming.

“She died,” Loki says, simply, and Thor’s more surprised by the _she_ than by the answer. “Not like you’re thinking, probably,” his brother continues. “She was in a car accident. Well, a bunch of us were. Some were just luckier than others, I suppose.”

This time, Thor _doesn’t_ dare ask his brother exactly what he means.


End file.
